Rekindling The colours of Go
by ryuusei NOuta
Summary: Hikaru, 20 years old. Depressed and burnt out. Escapism. Sweet escape. Home. Akari.
1. Escape and Mayonnaise

**Rekindling The Colours of Go**

Chapter 1 : Escape and Mayonnaise

* * *

XXXXXX

Enjoy.

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* * *

Depression. What else would you call it?

I put away the Kifu for last month's Ogata-Kurata duel. That's enough Go for now. Sitting down, hands clammy, I wanted pizza. But I wasn't hungry.

Depression? Or was this indifference?

I shook off my pizza-cravings and picked up Murakami's Dance Dance Dance.

Now where was I?

Oh, yes. The Hawaii chapters. Protagonist meets 13-year-old girl's Mom and subsequently meets one-armed-poet. Then, there's the ruckus regarding the South-East Asian prostitute. Then I stopped.

It's all too depressing. I'm 20 now. 5-Dan Pro. Living by myself, in a mediocre but comfortable apartment. And there's a match with two 6-Dan pros in a fortnight's time. Right in the thick of things.

But I can't, for the sake of me, look forward to anything. I'm not moving. I'm barely breathing. It's like I'm in the veil between stop and motion. Time moves on. Like a conveyor belt, dragging my life along with it. Driving it forward. But I fell off the belt. I didn't want this. I'm not strong enough.

I closed my eyes. What would the Protagonist do in this situation? I smiled a bit, enjoying the bond of helplessness between me and Dance's main character. He was put through this torrid time as well, but he managed to scurry, albeit with psychological wounds. But he managed nonetheless.

The bond was broken. I sneered at Murakami. This was a novel afterall. Of course there would be character developments.

But he had an advantage, I defended. The protagonist, Shujinko, was guided by the odd potpourri of sidecharacters.

I didn't have any.

There was the 13-year old psychic(whom I pictured looking like Haibara from Detective Conan.)  
There was the matinee actor who needed a dose of escapism.

And there was the Sheep Man, who only existed for him.

The Sheep Man, I mused. Whatever happened to my own Sheep Man? Is he doing well? I hope he's smiling all the time. Playing Go against God himself. I bet he's whining and pestering God as I speak.

The thought of it brought a sad longing pang in my chest.

"I hope God will trash you in Go, Sai", I said, clenching my Dance Dance Dance novel.

XXXXXX

* * *

I looked at my haggard self in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes and in dire need of a shave. It was 4 in the morning. Sleep would not come. I thought of Sai. I thought about the way I drove him out of my life. I was 15. I was living for the first time. This is Go, I thought at the time. This is life, I cheered at the time. And then he vanished. Went to heaven. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't apologise nor could I thank him. To thank him for opening my eyes to this vivid world I live in. The kaleidoscopic world of Go.

Yet, Go is only monochromatic. Sooner or later, I will tire. The fire, the exuberance, all will die out. The kaleidoscopic world of the black and white stones.

And here I stand in the darkness, in front of the bathroom mirror. Eyes red and badly in need of a shave. Worn out, depressed, tired, everything. The colour of Go flushed away.

I know Sai would hate to see me like this. Have I grown too old for this? I'm only 20. Sai would whine and scold me, seeing my self in this state. I'm sure of it.

'You're only 20! I'm almost 1000 years old! How could you be so sick of Go?!', Sai would squeal out. He's such a girl, I laughed.

But it was a laughter of self-pity.

"I need a break", I said as I crawled back to bed.

XXXXXX

* * *

It was almost 12 when I finally got out of my place. A picture perfect day of Spring, it seems. Cloud cover was minimum, paving its way so the sun would shine a brilliant shine.  
The little oak tree by my flat has ripened. Green with flair. It's the wrong time to be depressed. But, as everyone would find out, Depression transcends age and time.

I was wearing my striped collar shirt, pale yellow, contrasting well with my black cardigan and jeans. I also wore my new Hi-Top Circa sneakers. I also put on my Gucci Rush perfume.  
Out of habit, really. It's funny how I could be so depressed it's murderous, yet I could still be well-dressed. Does depression transcend fashion sense as well?

I felt good. Smartly dressed. New shoes. Clean shaven. Gucci Rush. But I was still down. I didn't want anything to do with Go. Not today. Not for a couple of days, at least.

"Escapism sounds good", I said to myself as I crossed the road, ambling towards town.

XXXXXX

* * *

The town centre is like the fulcrum of centrifugal force. The absolute centre of the town is a monument of the poet Takajo Kumiko who died of breast cancer. The monument itself is sort of the landmark of town, built upright in the shape of a thin pyramid. It was inscribed with Takajo-shi's very last poem, regarding breast cancer. It's sad that no one ever stops by and admire her swansong. I felt that she was a martyr for those suffering from breast cancer. Yet she's unappreciated.

It's exactly what I meant by the town centre being the fulcrum of centrifugal force. People revolve around this centre, but they don't come close to the centre. They just run around in circles and when energy is used up, the particles, us, return to where we came from, home or whatever, away from the centre. It's sad.

As I walk past the said monument, I soaked in the energy of my surroundings. The grey shophouses, The brick-red pavements, music from the DVD store, a ska band playing for free in the streets, high school girls talking on their cellphones, little kids laughing and whining, the waft of freshly grilled Yakitori. Everything. I was like a black hole, devouring everything without giving back. It just couldn't cheer me up.

Yet, amidst the ineffective mishmash of noise and energy, I stopped short gazing at the person before me.

Akari stood there, bathed in warm sunlight. Was she bathed by sunlight or was it the other way round? She just radiates that warm glow, effortlessly. Whilst, I was the black hole.

Beautiful, I thought.

She no longer had those cute pigtail-pulled back hairstyle. Her chestnut hair was down, straight and shiny. Her fringe complimented her eyes flawlessly. The length of it matched the warm, brown eyes of hers. Her rosy cheeks and her full lips along with her light pink frilled skirt, her cream-coloured cardigan on top of her white shirt, her bracelets, her flat sandals, her Vivienne Westwood handbag... God, you look fine Akari!

When was the last time I saw her? 4, 5 months ago? She still had her old hairstyle the last time I saw her.

The life as a Professional Go player has really pushed us apart. It's hard to think that we're neighbours. I hardly saw her all these years. Mere glimpses and birthday e-mails and the occasional nudges in MSN. Nothing more. And it kinda hurts. I've always had feelings for Akari. It's just... I was too young and too afraid to do anything about it. There were bound to be rumours since people knew we're childhood friends. It embarassed me to no end, that's why I didn't want anything to do with it. I was a stupid kid. And I still am. That and my Go career.

We've grown apart and we've moved on. There's no denying that fact. And there's no denying the fact that she still reserves a special little corner in my heart.

Akari was still standing by the phone booth, idly enjoying the sun and the ska music. Is she waiting for someone? Who could it be? A date? I frowned at the prospect.

I wanted to call out her name, calmly, smiling. I wanted to strike up a conversation. A little "How have you been?" and a "You look great!" finishing off with a "Let's lunch together". But I can't, for the love of me, move. I was stranded again, in that thin veil of consciousness between stop and motion. Was this too much for me?

But the heavens above sympathised as Akari glanced in my direction, smiled and began with a sweet, "Hikaru!", as she ran over to me.

"Hey there Akari!", I jovially returned, flushing.

XXXXXX

* * *

We sat opposite each other at a nearby Subway joint. I was famished so I had a foot-long turkey rasher sandwich with lots of sweetcorn and a dollop of honey mustard, with a little pinch of BBQ. This monster was accompanied with a cup of coffee. Akari had a little sixer of Italian BMT with coke. It was her favourite, she said.

I munched and savoured my first bite, only to end up grimacing. Damn, I thought, forgot my mayo.

Amused, she laughed. "What's wrong? Too sweet? I also made that mistake last time I ate here."

"Yeah", I said, "Should've added mayo."

"I always have mayo with mine. It provides that subtle balance between sweet and savoury. It's genius", she finished off, giggling.

We ended up eating here after some catching up on life at the street.

She began with a "How have you been?'

Fine, I countered. How's you?

Okay, she said, not so bad.

And then she mentioned Go.

She followed my progress, rising up the ranks ploughing through tournaments, knocked out at the Honinbo matches. All that.

I changed the subject with a "What have you been doing?"

She's doing Literature and Linguistics at Tsurumi University in Yokohama, she said.

Great, I commented.

She's still playing Go at the Uni's GoSoc. Again with the Go.

I smiled and ended the session with a "You hungry?"

And here we are. In Subway.

I forgot to mention the "You look great!", comment. Well I didn't forget per se. I just couldn't bring myself to say it.

I watched her bite her sandwich with such etiquette, you'd think its a performance of some sort. I have never seen anyone eat with such poise and panache. She caught my gaze, flushing.

"Would you stop staring at me eating? I'm self-conscious when it comes to table manners"

"Don't worry about your table manners. They're fine", I switched lanes again, trying to play it cool, "Were you waiting for someone?"

"Okasan", she said. "We're supposed to shop together today. But she had business to take care of. She'll be back later"

I sighed a silent sigh. Relieved. She wasn't dating anyone.

Lunch carried on like such. Catching up on everything. Commenting on the underrated Subway cookies. Coursework. Music. Books. Movies. And then she mentioned Go.

"I watched your game against Ko Yongha on NHK. I couldn't understand half of it. You were awesome Hikaru. I almost cried when the game ended"

I laughed a bit and stammered a half-assed, "Yeah".

She went silent after that. And we continued eating. We talked for a bit with Akari trying not to come up with Go-related topics.

Her cellphone rang after we finished our sandwiches, listening to The Script's Breakeven. It was her Okasan. She curtly took her leave with a gentle, "See you Hikaru."

I waved back at her, smiling.

"Let's meet up again", I said and I meant it.

I sat down, drinking coffee as I listened to NoGod's longing ballad, Yakusoku no Chi bellowing from Subway's very own radio station. Akari's DKNY Be Delicious eau de cologne lingered on.

XXXXXX

* * *

I didn't go back to my apartment. I called Okasan. I'm going home tonight, I said, cook up something good. I stopped by a bookstore, picked up Shonen Jump and Murakami's After Dark novella, before taking a short train ride home.

My return was greeted by the nostalgic aroma of Okasan's Beef Lasagne. My favourite. As I entered, I was immediately dragged into the kitchen and was seated opposite Tousan.

"Dig in", Tousan said as Okasan grinned.

Dinner was sumptuous. We had these fat king prawn tempura for appetisers. I ate five large ones. And then, the main course; Okasan's Beef Lasagne topped with crusted Cheddar, Parmesan and Mozzarella cheese, flanked with Tousan's French garden salad and his signature pepsi marinated honey wings. I had multiple servings of each. All that was washed down with fresh watermelon juice. For dessert, we had mango sorbet topped with whipped cream and various fruit slices. God, when was the last time I had a feast as such? Probably never.

We talked a bit as we ate. I haven't been home for almost a month so they asked how I was doing. Health-wise, Am I eating right, rent, taxes. My parents were the type to not openly praise or reward me but I know when they're in good moods. The beastly dinner was a clear show of their happiness. They probably missed me and must've been delighted in me coming over. But alas, they said no such thing.

They eventually asked around about Go. How's my Go career? Am I doing well? Have I been working too much?

"I need a break", was all I said. And they asked no further.

"Well, it's your life. If you feel burnt out or need fresh air or a change of pace, it's up to you. Just take your time", Okasan said as Tousan nodded.

It seems they've been following Go as well, with Go weeklies stacked in the living room as evidence. I like that trait about my parents. They nag and nag but they don't really pressure me with these things. They give me space to breathe. Which was exactly what I needed right now.

I thanked them for the meal and offered to wash dishes but was shooed away to my room. I picked up the books I bought and went upstairs.

As I stepped in my room, memories of Sai surged in like a really strong gale. My knees wavered, feeling weak. I managed to slump to bed, as I dropped the books. I'm back where I started, I thought. Vivid memories of Sai's disappearance replayed viciously. I remembered it perfectly. What I said, what Sai said, word per word. I could still see his saddened expression as he pointed at the Goban with his fan, playing his very last hand. I could still remember that very last Shidougo he played with me. My brightly lit room, the GTO manga lying beside the GOban. GTO volume 22. It was the Okinawa volume. Noboru and Anko.

I picked up GTO volume 22 from my bookcase and read that very same chapter. Then I shut my eyes.

"Sheep Man", I said as I thought of Sai.

XXXXXXX

* * *

I awoke at 5 in the morning. The sun was up and a cool breeze was playing with my curtains. I slept well. But I didn't feel great. I dreamt of Go.

I was in Haze's science lab, locked in battle with Kaga. I was black and I had just conquered the left side of his formation. He stepped up with wave after wave of piercing attacks,  
messing my rhythm.

Then, Mitani popped up, cheating as he crushed Tsutsui-san's intricate defense. I didn't know he was cheating. Sai was the one who found out. Mitani's cheating, Sai whispered.  
But he was nowhere to be seen. Where are you Sai?

Kaga won the battle. I felt disorientated and I was struck with nausea. Touya, Waya and Ochi ran past me, without acknowledging my existence. Ko Yongha stole my fan and burnt it to ashes. Suyon poured water on the ashes.

I closed my eyes. It felt like an eternity. I finally cracked them open. And there was Akari. Clad in the Haze school uniform. But it was present day Akari whom I met yesterday who stood before me. Her hair was down, her lips full. She was smiling. I could smell her DKNY cologne.

She pointed at my Goban. A black stone was placed on the very middle. The Tengen.

"Rekindle the colours of Go", she said to me.

That was when I woke up. With her words still ringing in my ears.

I didn't feel like analysing and delving deep into my dream, so I went and picked up the Shonen Jump I bought yesterday. I'm not a religious Jump fan, I only read my favourites.  
Naruto was pretty good. Finally meeting the real Nagato though too bad Hinata survived. Eyeshield 21 wasn't bad as well. The two evils of Japan's Amefuto team combining devilishly.  
Though, the lesser of two evils, Hiruma ultimately drove this chapter. I skimmed through Bleach. Same ol' same ol'. But the manga that truly piqued my interest was Bakuman. It's weird. A manga about manga. As in the science, the processes, the business behind the scenes of manga magazines. It's really well written. I wonder if they'd write a manga about Go. The artist would really put Go on the map of the entertainment world.

I went on reading for a few minutes as I mused about my imaginary Go manga. I pictured a brilliant young man in his late teens being the main character. Someone with a unique name. Say, Yagami Raito or 'Light' in English as this burgeoning Go talent. But he has a secret up his sleeve. His brilliant hands were actually the product of Go's Shinigami mastermind. A Shinigami with a short, weird name. Say, Reuk. And together, they storm through the Go world, murdering all his competitors with frightful Go.

I laughed. To top it all off, a simple name for my imaginary manga. Something like Raito no Go. It sounds tremendous. But who am I to say?

I showered after I finished reading. Putting on some fresh clothes, I headed downstairs to the kitchen. I spent about 20 minutes preparing a simple breakfast for my parents and I to enjoy. I rummaged through the cupboards and the fridge. I ended with Scrambled eggs, sausages and toast for breakfast. I made coffee and tea and brought out a carton of fresh orange juice from the fridge. I wanted to surprise my parents.

I succeeded as we enjoyed breakfast, watching the news on NHK. I skipped the dishes as I went back to my room.

Time for Murakami's After Dark.

I quietly read up to chapter 9 when I caught a glimpse of Akari from my window. She was outside, walking alone. She wore green today.

I stopped reading. I didn't remember what I was reading. Mari being the translator, speaking Chinese with the abused prostitute. What is it with Murakami and his prostitutes? That was all I could recall.

"Rekindle the colours of Go", she said in my dream.

What did she mean?

I put on my Davidoff cologne as I left my room, with a single black stone placed on the very middle of my Goban.

Tengen.

XXXXXX

* * *

Jason Mraz's 'I'm Yours' was mellowly playing at the cellphone store. I had just bought a cheap yellow Samsung B130 for a laughable 2700 Yen. I basked in the music. It was summer all over again. 'The sky is yours', soared Jason. I responded in kind, humming to the beautiful chorus. Laughing under a waterfall, sun in my eyes, guilt and worries dissipate as I sing to a girl playing a ukulele. A very sweet escape.

My Docomo phone was chock full of annoying e-mails and voicemails from the likes of Touya, Waya, Morishita-sensei, Izumi and everyone affiliated with Go. It's safe to say that my Docomo will undergo a little hiatus as I try to re-enact Mr Mraz.

Open up your mind and see like me,  
Open up your plans and Damn you're free.

Damn, I said.

It was Akari with her emerald brilliance.

XXXXXX

* * *

It was lunchtime so I was mildly surprised at the lack of customers in the local Kaiten Zushi. There was a handful of salarymen, three foreigners, one family of four and us:  
Akari clad in her gentle green halterneck, topped with her unbuttoned forest green cardigan. Her skirt was grey and she had jewelled ankle strap sandals on. It matched her teal earspirals flawlessly. To top it all of, she was fragranced with DKNY green apple Be Delicious. She was indeed, the personification of grace.

I, on the other hand, simply wore a white Krew T-shirt underneath my thin unzipped black hoodie. With slim jeans and my black & white Circa sneakers. I countered with a masculine Davidoff cologne.

Akari was quite surprised seeing me purchase a new phone.

"What happened to your old one?", she asked.

"It got annoying", I said.

I gave her my new number and vice versa. We walked together for a while, without a destination in mind. Stopping by Cd stores, asking for Dir en Grey's new unreleased DVD (with no luck. Checking out new PS3 games - but nothing caught my eye. She wanted to check out perfumes, so we went. She tried out the latest Nina Ricci perfume - it's overrated, she said.

What else? We windowshopped for shoes and watches but that was it. We simply meandered aimlessly, driven by our light conversations. Then hunger struck. And she craved for Mini Salmon Mayo.

So here we are, inside a nearby Kaiten-zushi, her picking up the first Mini Salmon Mayo plate. Again with the mayo. I picked up the unspectacular Uramaki which was spectacularly termed California Maki. It's not so bad, I thought as I chewed it, dipped with shoyu and wasabi of course.

She picked up Unagi and asked for a little plate of mayo. To dip?!

I stared agape, Tekka maki in mouth. She got her mayo, and mixed it with a little stream of Shoyu. Then she whirled them together until it became a disdainfully unflattering concoction.  
Satisfied, she dipped her Unagi with it. Then proceeded to eat it, with her exquisite table manners. I stared on.

She glanced at me. She blushed. She scolded. Self-conscious about table manners.

"Your table manners are perfect", I said, "unblemished".

Still blushing, she scolded me further.

I tried to save myself.

"Never mind that Akari. You're dazzling in green"

She pouted and looked away. I laughed.

The day went on peacefully. We strolled about, windowshopped, talked, stopped by to listen to an indie band with a female vocalist on the street. We ate ice cream, mine Ocha, hers Pistachio. And I walked her home.

"See you Hikaru", she smiled.

I will, I said to myself as I smiled back.

I went home. It was dinner time. Okasan made curry. I sat opposite Tousan again.

It was very good curry. I had three servings, coupled with Tousan's Caesar Salad. We talked a bit. Where have I been? Town, I said. Tousan talked about the Dallas Cowboys but none of us shared his passion for NFL. It's the same with me and my passion for Go and Okasan's passion for American Idol. We're so different.

We resumed eating. I wondered about Akari. Would she eat curry with mayo? I grimaced as I imagined the taste. But I tried it out anyways. Half a spoonful of mayo with my curry.  
I ate a spoonful. I regret. It was as weird as Popcorn flavoured chicken. My parents were puzzled. What are you doing? Are you playing with food? No such thing, I said. I told them about Akari and her mayo. We laughed. We had papaya for dessert.

After dinner, I went back to my room and read a bit of my Jump. I haven't been following DGray-Man as of late. It became too Bleach-like last time I read it. And I still don't know why the title is DGray-Man. Has it got anything to do with the story? At least Bleach referred to Ichigo's orange hair. Did it have anything to do with the characters? Allen Walker? Funnily enough, the characters remind me of my life. Allen kinda looks like me. Kanda is definitely Touya, manga version. Lavi is Waya. And Lenalee is Akari. It's true. Not to boast or anything but it's such a huge resemblance its scary.

It was almost 11 when Akari called.

My ringtone was Girugamesh's 'Break Down'. I let it ring until the turntable intro solo.

"Hey", I picked up.

"Hello", she said, gentle as always.

"What's up?"

"No, nothing. Just bored is all."

I remebered the curry mayo fiasco.

"Hey uh, Akari? Do you ever have curry with mayo?"

She raised her voice, blushing I presume.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"No, I'm just curious cos we had curry for dinner and I was just wondering", I chuckled.

"You ARE making fun of me!", she scoffed, pouting I presume. "So did you try it?", she continued lightheartedly.

"Yea, I did. It was WEIRD", I emphasised. "It's like eating chocolate and you're expecting it to taste like chocolate but it turns out tasting like cheese. You know what I'm saying?"

She burst into a fit of giggles.

"It's weird", I repeated.

Still giggling, she said, "It doesn't taste like that!"

"It's weird", I said again, smirking.

She managed to halt her giggles, "It's very nice. Curry goes well with mayo. It nuetralises the heat but emphasises the natural curry flavour"

"What do you mean natural curry flavour?! It's weird!"

She laughed again.

We talked normally after she recovered. What I have been doing? Manga, I said. Why do people keep asking what I've been doing? Am I really suspicious?

I responded in kind.

"I'm bored. I'm in a train to Yokohama."

I stopped. She left?

"Why?", was all I could manage.

"I've got class tommorow and Spring break's over"

"Why didn't you tell me?", I said darkly.

"Huh? Oh.. Sorry, I forgot", she went silent. I was silent as well.

This sort of crushed me. I wanted to see her again. Tommorow. The next day. And the next day. And the day after that. Everyday. I felt good seeing her. Life was good. Lunching with her. Talking with her. Seeing her dressed immaculately. Skipping a heartbeat. I felt good. But she left. She got class tommorow.

"No, it's alright", I said as I rationalised.

"Hikaru?", she called.

"Yea?"

"Why were you upset when I asked about Go? Did I step on a landmine?"

"I need a break", I didn't hesitate. I knew exactly what I needed. "I'm burnt out I guess. I want to escape from Go. I've been depressed lately and I don't want anything to do with Go"

She was silent.

"That's why you bought a new phone", she finally said.

We quietly talked, almost whispering. She left at 8, she said. Tommorow's her Modernism lecture and Discourse analysis seminar. Sounds interesting, I replied. We discussed a bit about James Joyce. Well, SHE talked about James Joyce. I listened. She was clear, concise, articulate and entertaining.

"You really like your course, Akari."

She stammered, embarassed. I'm the same with my Go, she told me.

"You may be depressed now Hikaru, but I've seen you play Go. You are passionate about Go. I'm sure of it Hikaru. Go would colour your life again. A break would really help you."

Go colouring my world? These weren't the exact words, but the context was similar. My dream, Akari and her Tengen, rekindling the colours of Go. I smiled.

"Thank you Akari. I mean it."

We talked for a bit until her train stopped. She's in Yokohama, I thought. We talked about food and Yokohama Marinos until she reached her place. Good night, I said.

"See you Hikaru", she hung up with her gentle voice still hanging in the air.

I put my new yellow Samsung away. Picked up After Dark. But I didn't read it.

Go would colour your life again, she said.

I read After Dark. Mari was reading in the cafe, thinking of her sister Eri.

"I'll go to Yokohama tommorow, Sai", I murmured.

XXXXXX

* * *

End of Chapter 1 : Escape and Mayonnaise.

Please Read, Review and Look Forward to Chapter 2 - Yokohama and Tengen.

Thank You.


	2. First few hours in Yokohama

Chapter 2 : First few hours in Yokohama

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I'm really sorry for the slow update. And I forgive in advance for this chapter. It's short and nothing's really happening. But I've got a valid reason for it. Haha. I'm under really trying circumstances as of late. Right in the thick of action. The 2nd year in my degree. Courseworks, a mini-field trip, more servings of coursework, the end of year exam(next week!) and a goddamned 6-week dissertation fieldtrip at the end of this month. But I will work on a better chapter for chapter 3 though. Haha. Just a bit of advice. Avoid Geology courses in England.

Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter. If not, flame away! =/

XXXXXXXXXXX

* * *

"Have you eaten, kid?", the taxi driver puzzlingly began.

"I already had breakfast", I said.

"Too bad. We have the best Okonomiyaki here. And our shumai. Cheap, diabolically delicious and healthy as hell. Whatd'you have for breakfast, kid?"

I internally questioned his choice of words regarding the shumai. How can dumplings be healthy? And how can I trust him? Healthy as hell? That didn't sound healthy at all.

"I had banana pancakes. Topped with melting butter. It's not bad", I replied.

He wasn't convinced, "It is bad. Kids these days. I don't get what's so great about Western food. Us Japanese should be proud of our delicious Japanese food! You should be grateful!"

As if dumplings are Japanese. I didn't correct him. It'll be troublesome. I fell silent, nodding in half-hearted agreement.

Peace at last, I thought as the radio was playing The Cure's 'Just Like Heaven', with my driver singing along. It just didn't seem right.

I sighed. The train ride to Yokohama was exhausting. I had checked my bank account in the morning. Thinking, I've got more than enough money for transport fares, accommodation,  
food and clothes. It could last me three months at least, if I wanted to. But I didn't plan to stay that long. I left after having my pancake breakfast and telling my parents, back to Go. I lied of course as I caught the first train to Yokohama.

I relaxed on the train. But I couldn't. Or wasn't allowed to relax. Go enthusiasts easily recognised me. Must've been my bleached hair, I thought. There were thousands of them.  
Well, it felt like thousands. I had to sign their books, shirts, coffee cup, anything I could write on. They took pictures with me. Talked about my recent matches, my Hokuto cup matches, there was no let up. The last straw was their request to play them. A 4-on-1 Shidougo. That was it, I thought, as I made a beeline for it. I hid in the lavatory for the rest of the journey.

I quickly chased after a taxi once we arrived at Yokohama. The taxi driver was a bit on the large side, wearing an old Japan football jersey. It was the World Cup 2006 edition. He beamed, where to? Sakuragicho hotel please, I gasped.

I took a deep breath. The next song was playing. It was L'Arc en Ciel's classic 'Niji. Grunting in irritation, the taxi driver switched stations. Kanye West's 'Heartless' was playing instead.

"I see you've got a novel there", he glanced at my Edgar Allan Poe Collections. "What is it?"

I explained. An old American writer. Gothic. Dupin the Detective. Ligeia.

He sighed, displeased. "Again with the Western obsession. What is it with kids these days? Why can't you enjoy Japanese novels? Like MEMOAAZU OFU A Geisha?", American, "Or Kazuo Ishiguro's ZA ANKONSORUDZU?", British.

I nodded half-heartedly.

We arrived at Sakuragicho. I paid the taxi fare, wishing that I wouldn't encounter him ever again. The hotel wasn't bad for a 3-star. It looked new, about 20-storeys high but was designed in a simple yet tasteful manner. I checked in, Room 112. The room itself was quite austere, very practical. I chucked my belongings on the bed. My books, a little bag of boxers and a T-shirt. A toothbrush and my favourite Gilette Fusion. I relieved myself in the bathroom. Took a good look at myself. Purple Radiohead T-shirt, grey Maharishi thin hoodie, jeans and my Circa sneakers. I sprayed Gucci Rush on my neck and washed my face. Good to go, I thought.

I left the hotel with a Nike slingbag, a pen and foolscape paper as contents.

I stopped a taxi. Tsurumi University, I requested. Surprise, surprise. It was the patriotic taxi driver himself. I sighed.

XXXXXX

The taxi ride was extremely tiring. He talked about hair. "Young people these days", he began shaking his head, "I don't get your mops. Whatever happened to the good old days?  
When men looked like men and women beautiful. Men had no-nonsense hair. Crew cuts, bald and simple short partings. I don't get you young ones with wild bleached hair."

Might I mention that his hair was an auburn fauxhawk.

We arrived at Tsurumi University's front gate. I paid and thanked him. Then I slammed the door shut. I gave him the middle finger as he drove off, singing some Lady Gaga song.

Calm down, I paced myself as I ambled through the front gates.

I sat down on a marble bench. Its luster vitreous, garnet minerals lodged in between dark amphibole looking formations.

The University was breathtaking. Pine trees, abstractly cropped in a corner behind tulip strips. A Kinamoto Kisasuke statue, with more high grade rocks revolving around it. I went over and studied it. 'Nyobo no shozoku no iro' was carved at the base of the statue. I had no slightest clue what the rock was. I could see serpentine. It was beautiful. Apple green colour with tints of teal. It reminded me of Akari. Her teal earspirals and grey skirt. Mayo and shoyu with unagi.

I chuckled as I whipped out my cheap yellow Samsung and dialled in Akari's number.

It rang about six times.

"Hey Hikaru!", she sang.

"Hey Akari. Whatcha up to?"

"I've got class in 10 minutes. Modernism. Joyce. Remember?"

"Yea, perfectly. So you're in Tsurumi now? Brilliant", I concluded.

She came in a matter of minutes. She was puzzled but smiled nonetheless. What was I doing here? I need a break, I said. But why Yokohama? Why her University?

"I'm curious. Modernism. Joyce. Ulysses. Remember?", I mimicked, trying to impress her.

She giggled as she took my arm, leading the way.

She was slightly awed. I was the last person she'd expect to know about Joyce's Ulysses, she said. Feigning the offended, she giggled even more. I only recently read novels, I told her. Reading was a nice change. Go racks your brain. Overcooks it. Too much and you'll explode. In Go, you navigate your ship against the currents. You're the captain, battling killer waves, driving upstream, waterfalls. Most of the time you won't know what to expect. Reading, on the other hand, is a vacation. You're the passenger of a luxury cruise ship. You sit down, bask in the glorious weather. You go with the flow, trusting the captain's instinct. You're engulfed as the plot thickens but you'll always safely disembark at your destination. It's relaxing, I told her. She giggled at my metaphor.

As we paced to the lecture theatre, I admired Akari. Honey-scented chestnut hair rippling with every step. Bright brown eyes emanating warmth, cutting through the chilly Spring morning breeze. Black knitted coat blanketing her white 'Married to the Mob' T-shirt. Concrete grey skirt with brown boots. Brown and gold Chanel bag. But a different fragrance. It's Armani Diamonds, she smiled. Her lips full and rosy. She hummed Kagrra's 'Satsuki'.

We found ourselves slipped in a crowd of students, one by one entering Saikaku Lecture Theatre 11. Ihara Saikaku - pioneer of modern Japanese fiction, she informed. We found ourselves seated three rows from the front. I studied my surroundings. A large screen was central to the theatre. The theatre itself was quite big but seats were aplenty. By the time the lecturer stepped in it was almost full.

She hummed Kagrra's 'Towa ni'. "I miss Isshi's voice from the album San", she smiled referring to Kagrra's vocalist. I also preferred Kagrra before their Shizuku album.

"But Shu, the latest album, is an ode to their early years. Very recommendable", she said.

I agreed.

Okada Kumiko-sensei, the lecturer, wore a pink sweater and a black skirt. As I pictured, she wore glasses. Her hair was shoulder length and she was about 40. Her voice was firm, clear and authorative, but motherly. She was a clear favourite among the students.

"Morning sensei! Pink again, huh?", one of the guys hollered.

"Sensei! Any Shiroi Koibito cookies for me?", another guy.

Laughter.

"Sit down, shut up and cookies after class", she sharply ordered, smirking.

Cheers and more laughter.

"She's a Hokkaido native. Everytime she returns from Hokkaido, she brings us cookies. Awesome, isn't she? Pink is her 'first-day-of-school' colour. Without fail!", enthused Akari.

"Today, we'll talk about the influence of Modernism in Literature", Okada-sensei began.

The clicking of pens and the creasings of lecture notes. Then silence.

"Modernist literature began in Europe in the 1900s."

Akari smiled eagerly.

XXXXXX

The white petals of Spring windflowers (or 'Anemone Nemorosa' as Akari labelled it), fluttered about, surfing on the soothing noon wind. We celebrated its existence with a choco Shiroi Koibito cookie each. They were very, very good. I should've bought some when I searched for Sai in Hokkaido.

Hey Sheep Man, have some cookies while you're up there, I mused as I looked up, the sky blistering with beauty, art in its purest.

Akari sang Bump of Chicken's 'Karma'. I chorused along. The lyrics etched deep in me. I have never ever encountered lyrics as beautiful as that of 'Karma'.

We are one another s mirror that reflects our karma.  
While our tainted hands touch each other,  
and feel their silhouette.

Fujiwara Motou-san, kudos to you.

We strolled past the Kinamoto Kisasuke statue, relaxed, enjoying each other's presence.

"Fujisaki!", a debatably familiar female voice called out.

Akari turned and greeted, "Hey Nase-sempai! How was your vacation?"

Nase? I turned. I confirmed. It was indeed Nase Asumi who was with me during my Insei days. Nostalgic notions squeezed my gut. Images of Waya, Isumi, Ochi, Fuku and Nase, five years ago. I stood wordlessly. Nase wore a purple Gap hoodie, bleached jeans and yellow converse sneakers. Her Louis Vuitton bag stood out. Her hair was the same as it was. Straight,  
shoulder length and brown. She had minimal make up on, just foundations and a bit of lip gloss. She was beautiful. Though her allure was different to that of Akari. But beautiful nonetheless.

"You two know each other?"

She was genuinely surprised seeing me in their University, "Shindou? What are you doing here? I mean, how have you been? I haven't seen you in years!"

"Yeah, haven't seen you in a while. You two know each other?", I repeated.

Akari smiled, "She is the gifted president of Tsurumi University's GoSoc"

"Would you cut that out, Fujisaki?", cried Nase, embarassed.

The girls giggled as they made little talk. I went skiing. How was it? Hokkaido was great! I relaxed at home. Shopping? Stuff like that.

I recalled my Insei days. Eating Big Macs at McDonald's with Waya, Insei and Nase. Eating sushi, cold soba with beardman. My stomach growled. When's lunch?

XXXXXX

Ne-yo's 'Miss Independent' suddenly played. It was Nase's ringtone. She picked up.

"What is it Oka-sama?", she mocked, then laughed.

"Yes, I'm fine. No, don't worry. Oka-chan, come on. Yea, my class ended just now."

It was indeed her mother. I sat next to Nase on a surprisingly comfortable wooden bench. We were in a little leisure area of the University. Flower beds, rows of flower trees.  
Very aesthetic. The sweet smell of blooming bluebells and camellias gave out a lulling sensation. They suck you in. They drug you. And you're reluctant to muscle your way out of its sweet trap. Comfort at its highest order. I gave in.

I found the place very alluring for students. Say, you got an hour break between lectures. You sit down in this Garden of Eden replica. You lose yourself. Your muscles relax, your brain steps down a couple of gears, tension dissipates. And that's your one hour. Gone. If it were me, I'd say, "to hell with class!" I'd lie down for hours and hours. My worries gone with the sweet Spring breeze. It's a drug, I tell you.

"What are you up to Shindou?", she was done. See, what I tell you? It's a drug. You lose track of your surroundings.

"Relaxing is all. I need a break. I'm so sick of Go it's nauseating. It gets to you. You know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, totally. I got so sick of Go. I quit Insei two years ago. And I didn't touch or think about Go for almost a year. Until now."

"Did you always wanted to go to University?", I asked.

"Yeah, I always did. But it's funny", she smirked.

"What is?"

"I can't escape from Go. No matter how much you're hating Go, it'll warm itself to you. It's like a persistent ex-lover. Sooner or later, you'll live and breathe Go, like you used to.  
You know what I'm saying?"

No I don't. "Yeah, sorta"

"My course is Geography with Geology as a minor subject", she stated, making it sound obvious.

"What about Geography and Geology?", it wasn't obvious to me.

"After graduating I want to work in the military. In the department of Military Strategy.  
I'm studying mapping. Mapping out the topography, the rock types, water tables, the acidity, everything. It's totally relevant. And where Go comes in, it's pure tactics and strategy.  
Making use of the topographical advantages from my maps. Scouting out the best possible territory and using it for the army's advantage. Vantage points, natural barriers, water supply. It's totally relevant. Geography, Geology and Go. The strings are tangled up. And my passion is rekindled. The colours are rekindled. You know what I'm saying?"

Rekindled colours? But that's besides the point. Nase's talk was engrossing. It intrigued me. Using your talent in Go, applying it with geographical knowledge for the tactical unit. It was unthinkable. Well, to me it is.

Nase was smiling. Her eyes lit up. I acknowledged her goals. Remarkable, I told her. She smiled even more. Then her phone rang. It was Micbandits' 'Here Comes the Rapper'. E-mail,  
she told me as she texted.

Rekindled colours? What's with this recurring theme? Is it significant? I thought about Akari. Her wispy voice, almost whispering over the phone. Rekindling the colours of Go.  
I thought about my dream. Akari. Tengen. Rekindling the colours of Go. Was it a Tsurumi GoSoc thing?

Akari was in her Discourse Analysis seminar. I didn't go because of its registered attendance. Too bad, I told her. So I hung out with Nase instead, since her class ended and we wanted to lunch together. The three of us. I asked Nase what her class was. Chemistry of the Earth, she said. Interesting.

Minutes pass by as we talk about the importance of isotopes and pH values in water tables. I had no input in the discussion due to my zero geological knowledge.

"Sorry I'm late", Akari apologised. She took a seat between us. My stomach growled ferociously. Laughter. Perfect timing, I said.

"Let's have pizza", announced Nase.

My stomach roared in agreement.

XXXXXX

Haha. Review please. Thank you!


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